Valar In The Rayne
by Blue-PaperTiger
Summary: PERMANENT HIATUS! Eomer crosses path with a roaming mercenary just before he's banished and things start to unfold. R&R if you like.
1. Chapter One

Disclaimer: I own nothing of Lord of the Rings!! . The character Rayne is the only original thing in this.

Sorry if this is crap but I've not written anything for a long long while.

R&R so I know HOW crap it is.

All translations are at the bottom of the page.

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**Chapter One**

Lightning cracked over head rapidly followed by deep rolling thunder. The forks of lightning lit up a tall cluster of rocks and sent the silhouette of the cliff and the huge white wolf laid upon it flashing across the plains below. The wolf was pure white accept for three black dots under each of her closed eyes and she only slightly smaller than a warg. Her muscles rippled under her thick fur as she shifted on the flat rock top. Another fork of lightning cracked above followed closely by its rolling counterpart. Silence fell heavily across the nightly blue plains. Her eyes flickered as she dreamt.

"What the hell do you want me to say? Some things hurt. But you just get back up and get on with it." The child continued to cry on the floor, her knees scuffed and bleeding. The woman stood with her arms crossed staring down at the young girl with contempt. The woman was tall and thin with pale skin and raven black hair which matched her piercing black eyes. Her leather armour rustled slightly as she shifted onto her other foot. The child glanced up from under her hair with watery eyes before a coarse, strong hand tightened round her arm and yanked her to her feet roughly. The girl's arm fell limply to her side once the woman let go. The woman thrust a small blade into the girl's hands and stepped back. "We're going to try again, and this time you're going to get it right or I'm going to let him take a bite." The woman turned her head to the side and clicked her long fingers. A tatty, war ridden orc lurched forward with a sword in its hand. The girl's eyes focused on the woman then on the approaching orc. Her tiny hands tightened on the hilt of the sword and her eyes blazed grey as her white hair flashed in the firelight as she spun round with the blade raised.

The temperature dropped subtly and a cold drop of icy rain fell and landed on the head of the sleeping beast. Slower one eye opened to reveal a flaming grey eye. Looking up, gradually her other eye open and she stared up at the black sky. Her nostrils flared slightly as she let out a heavy sigh and her paws slapped down onto the rock as she slowly raised herself up to standing. She peered over the edge of the cliff lazily before rolling her shoulders before jumping off. Landing silently she started forward, running up a rise and surveying the endless fields that stretched out in front of her. She lowered her head and took a step before pausing, raising her head high into the air and sniffing inquisitively. There was the scent of fresh blood on the air. Shifted her head from side to side she finally found the direction of the smell and her eyes sharpened on the direction ahead, recalling the land in that area. From what she could remember, the Fords of Isen lay ahead. Lowering her head she started towards the Fords, walking anxiously at first then building into a powerful gallop.

Éomer watched the grey sunrise in silent as he led his eored towards the Fords of Isen. He had spent the past two days riding hard to the Fords. His mind was fixed on the idea of Isengard and Mordor forming an alliance. The words of Grima echoing harshly in his mind and the image of a frail old Theoden sat on the throne of Rohan while Edoras burnt down around him. Shaking his head slightly, flicking drops of rain flying off, he slowed Firefoot down to a canter as they approached the clearing in the forest where the river Isen cut threw that was the Ford. He halted once he saw the devastation. Rohirrim lay hewn next to Uruk-hai, red and black blood mingling and flowing down the river. The rain seemed to come down harder as the eored took in the sight of so many dead. Éomer dismounted and stood looking horrified before snapping out of his deathly trance. "Look for Theodred. Look for the King's son." Hurriedly his men dismounted and started to search through the dead for one man, one face.

The silent flash of a blade struck out in the lessening darkness and a body hit the ground with a muffled thud. The last of the orcs search the edge of the trees franticly for what was picking them off one by one in hushed menace. A pair of flaming green eyes blazed for a split second beside a tree and then vanished just as quickly. The orcs growled out of fear like a group of cornered dogs. A whisper drifted to them on the breeze and chilled their blood, "Avo acheno…" blinking, one turned slower to look behind. The glint of silver caught his eye for a moment before cutting him down. The rest froze on the spot, not daring to move. One made the mistake of trying to catch a glimpse of the menace behind them and the last thing he saw was flaming grey eyes before his head left his shoulders. The largest of the orcs clamped his jaw and tightened his grip on the hatchet. Before he had even begun to spin round his legs and arms were cut free of him, closely followed by his head. Before the others even had a chance to react they were all cut down with a single sweeping slice of the silver blade. The assassin's black cloak floated slightly in the wind as a single drop of black blood fell from the tip of the blade. A hushed breath from the murderous silhouette was snatched away by the wind and the approaching sound of hoof beats replaced the quiet trickle of the Ford. The assassin pulled they're hood and neck scarf up and disappearing into the trees silently.

Éomer paused in his search for a moment to puzzle over something. Standing he looked quizzically down at a circle of dead orcs that seemed fresher than the rest. Looking up his eyes glanced all over the Ford until stopping on the trees slightly to the right of him. He narrowed his eyes on a shadow that was darker than the rest. "Lord Éomer! We've found him!" slowly he turned towards the calls but continued to stare into the shadow, eventually turning away and running towards the callers, imagining it to just be a trick of the mind from the wariness of the past two days of riding. Kneeling down, he turned the body round to look at its face to see a deathly pale Theodred looking back up at him, eyes gently closed, as if he were merely sleeping. Éomer's head dropped as he saw that his cousin and future King was dead. Cut down by the filthy hand of an orc. The soldier knelt beside lifted his head for a moment and caught the glimpse of a passing shadow, the sight causing him to catch his breath and reach for his sword. "my Lord…" Éomer looked up at the soldier then in the direction of the thing that had startled his man. Seeing the same shadow from before he gently put Theodred to the ground and stood up, relaxing his hand on the hilt of his sword. "Halt shadow! Show yourself!" the shadow stopped and the head turned to look at them. "You are in the land of Rohan! State your business!" Éomer's voice did not falter despite the unnatural silence that echoed from the silhouette in front of him. Without warning the shadow suddenly materialized right in front of him. The men nearby took a surprised step back, taking a tight hold of the hilts, ready to defend their lord. An icy cold breath caused Éomer's eyes to flicker slightly but he refused to back down. "Ae anírach…" Éomer raised an eyebrow questioningly then took a deep breath, dropping his eyes then raising them with the black silhouette tiredly, his hand leaning readily on the hilt of his sheathed sword. "An ally of orc or Mordor are not welcome in Rohan." The shadow shook its head with contempt, "Garich i dhôl goll o Orch." The shadow turned sharply and started to drift away towards the trees, leaving Éomer with a confused look on his face. After thinking for a moment he finally spoke, "If you are not a spy of Sauron's then maybe it will pain you to know that Saruman as made an allegiance with the dark Lord." The shadow stopped, a shocked breath escaping from under the black hood. Turning, the shadow materialized right in front of him again, only a pair of burning grey eyes could be seen glowing from within the hood. "Sen tîr?" Éomer glanced over for a moment just as the sun rose up over the top of the trees, flooding the clearing with light. Staring with surprise, he realised an elegant cloaked figure stood before him. "Sen tîr?" of all the strange words he had exchanged with the figure, he finally realised that the voice was a woman's. "Is this true?" he smiled and raised an eyebrow. "So it talks."

"Congratulations on that brilliant analysis… now answer me. Is it true?"

"What? That the white wizard has given in to the dark power rising in the East? Yes, it is, as far as I'm concerned anyway."

"So you don't actually know then."

He stayed silent, the conviction in his eyes never wavering and her piercing gaze never leaving his. She shifted on her feet, looking down and letting out a frustrated sigh. The wind picked up and blew her cloak up slightly, revealing the sheath strapped to her belt and thigh. Éomer watched her with fascination for a short while, noticing scars all over her one uncovered hand, the other was loosely wrapped up in a leather strip. "What's your name?" her grey eyes lifted and narrowed on him, almost burning a hole through him but he refused to look away but locked stares with her instead. A long moment passed and the atmosphere grew tense with hidden hostility until Éomer finally broke the silence. "We take the prince's body back to Edoras." The order was to his men though he didn't take his eyes off hers. The wind picked up again and blew a single strand of long white hair out from under her hood, sparkling in the rising sun. Reaching up she tucked it back under her hood then took a few steps back then said "Rayne" barely above a whisper. Éomer opened his mouth to ask again but before it could leave his lips she had bowed, said "Namárië" and had disappeared into the shadows of the trees.

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Elvish: Avo acheno  
Pronunciation: Ah-voe ah-kheh-no  
English: Don't look back

Elvish: Ae anírach  
Pronunciation: Eye ah-NEAR-ahkh  
English: If you wish

Elvish: Garich i dhôl goll o Orch  
Pronunciation: Gahr-eekh ee thole goal oh orkh  
English: You have the hollow head of an orc

Elvish: Sen tîr?  
Pronunciation: Sehn teer?  
English: Is this true?

Elvish: Namárië  
Pronunciation: Nah-MAR-ee-ay  
English: Farewell


	2. Chapter Two

Once again all translations are at the bottom.

**Chapter Two**

Éomer paced back and forth in his prison cell. His hands held behind his back, he kicked up straw and dust with his feet as he thought about how Grima was manipulating the King and making him into a frail old man. Thanks to that worm he was trapped in this cell, twisting every word he'd said in defence of himself and his éored. Rohan was running low of men that would defend her if and when Saruman strikes. He stopped in the middle of his cell for a moment to glance longingly at his sword, Gúthwinë, which was propped up against the wall like a useful tool. He thought of how he would love to plunge that blade into Wormtongue's gut before slumping down onto the pitiful straw bed in the corner on the floor.

Rayne stood for a long time staring at Edoras in the distance. The sun was shining on Meduseld and the thatch was sparkling gold, living up to its other name of the Golden hall. She crossed her arms, frowning with deep thought. The wind was blowing strongly at her side, sending her cloak and strands of hair floating up into the air. '_We are mercenaries. We only do what we're paid to._' Her eyes dropped down for a second before she forced them to look back up at Edoras. Growling at her own thoughts she dropped down to one knee, tightening the laces on the dark brown leather boots on her feet. Tucking the brown cotton leggings back into her boots she stood up sharply and narrowed her eyes on Meduseld. Taking a deep breath, she continued walking; going down the rise she had been stood on for so long. "Man carel le?"

The yells of the guards stirred Éomer from his thoughts. "There's a warg coming! A great white warg!" looking up, he noticed all guards but one had gone to defend against this approaching threat. Standing slowly, he walked up to the cell door and peered out at the single guard. He must have been only fifteen years old at the most, the armour hung off his skinny frame and the helmet tilted to the side, almost completely covering his eyes. A shadow flickered from the stairway, catching both the young guard and Éomer's eyes. The torch that lit the bottom of the stairs flickered as if blown by a strong wind then puffed out. "Mára aurë" hissed quietly next to the guard's ear, sending a shiver down his spine. Only the fleeting shadow was left of the guard when an icy cold breath blew on the back of his neck. Éomer strained to see in the darkness and was taken a back when the torch suddenly burst back to life, revealing the woman from before sat at the table with her feet kicked up looking a little too relaxed considering the circumstances. "What are you doing here?" she looked up at him with an eyebrow raised questioningly "Why are you whispering?" Éomer pushed himself back off the bars and turned towards his so-called bed. A whisper caught his ear; causing him to pause and turn his head slight to the side "Goheno nin…" he shifted slightly so he could turn his head enough to look at the door, to see her stood in front of the bars staring back. There was a long moment while they stared at each other. "Guards! GUARDS!!" they both turned to see shadows moving around at the top of the stairs. Éomer gritted his jaw at the sound of Grima's shrieks, clenching his fists as he turned to tell her to leave. Suddenly he found himself alone in the dungeons, walking up to the bars and looking out for where she might have disappeared to only to be interrupted by Grima and the other guards storming in. Grima looked all over the dungeon before his eyes stopped on Éomer who was backing away from the bars slowly, grimacing at the sight of Grima's deathly pale skin and piercing eyes. "Where is it?"

"What?" Grima half lunged up to the bars, clasping onto them fiercely and growling in at him "You know what!" Éomer merely shrugged off the venomous tones of Wormtongue and walked over to his straw bed and sat down. As Grima turned away Éomer caught the sight of grey eyes shimmering from atop the roof beams. As Grima and the guards drifted back up the stairs she dropped down silently, only making a fleeting glance over at the stairs. She stood up slowly, looking in at him expressionlessly. Slowly, he stood up and opened his mouth to speak and was stopped by her hand gently covering his mouth, her eyes flicking over to the window then back to his. Taking her hand away she took a step back. Éomer turned and looked out the window to see the rain clouds just starting to part, revealing a pale blue sky underneath. When he looked back round he saw a large furry white tail vanish up the stairs.

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Elvish: Man carel le?  
Pronunciation: Mahn kah-rell lay?  
English: What are you doing?

Elvish: Mára aurë  
Pronunication: Mah-rah ow-ray  
English: Hello

Elvish: Goheno nin  
Pronunciation: Go-hay-no neen  
English: Forgive me


End file.
